Today I’m speaking with Photographer Jim Herrington. Jim’s
celebrity portraits include Willie Nelson, Morgan Freeman, Dolly
Parton, and his images have appeared in magazines like Rolling
Stone and Esquire. He has a fabulous portrait series of many of the
climbing legends such as Ricardo Cassin, Royal Robbins, Fred
Beckey, and many more in his acclaimed book The Climbers which was
awarded the grand prize at the 2017 Banff Book Awards.
When did you pick up your first camera?
How old were you?
Well,
there was an old Argus, twin lens reflex that was rattling around
and family. Probably a 1950s model with a leather case. I remember
getting my hands on that, playing around some, but then, I got a
Kodak Instamatic around 1972 or something when I was a nine. The
first significant camera was a Pentax K 1000. And I got that when I
was about 12 or 13. And actually that's kind of the way I measure
it back to when things really started. I ended up photographing
Benny Goodman on that camera. When I was a young teen and I always
call that ground zero of where it all began.
You’re pretty much self-taught then I
guess?
Well,
yeah, I mean, people say self-taught, but that just usually means
they've gone and sought out really good teachers. I did go to
school briefly. It wasn't for me, but I had intentionally picked
out really exceptional mentors, people I wanted to learn from and,
certainly tons of books and movies and going to museums and just
really looking. So I guess in a way I taught myself, but you know,
you're learning from somebody somehow. I guess you're more picking
how you're taught if you do it that way. You're kind of looking at
how they get that and how they do that and figuring it out on your
own.
What kind of things did you shoot as a
kid, did you just shoot everything or did you have a specific photo
or image in mind?
You
know, of course, I shot the dog and stuff like that. There were
these old life magazines around the house and I think my father was
kind of casually collecting from the thirties and forties. And you
know, they had these big, full-bleed, black and white photographs.
from World War two and Paris and Antarctica, Brigitte Bardot, and
all these amazing things to look at. I can remember my earliest
memories were laying on the floor in the living room, just going
through those pages and being taken somewhere to these places. And
it was a while before I thought, Oh, somebody is taking these
photos. I was so young. I didn't even know someone took these
photos. They were like pictures. I didn't know where pictures came
from, but then it dawned on me that someone was taking them. And
then, later on, I realized these people are getting paid to take
these pictures and it just immediately became my obsession. This
must be the best life possible, traveling around the world and
encountering these people, places, and things, and sort of showing
your little creative version of it. That's the way my mind could
put it together.
I
mean, I didn't realize there were people like the great
photographers
Dorothy Lange and
Walker Evans. But
that's who a lot of those people were. So it was a good early
place, just kind of the first place where I saw good, interesting
photography.
What were you shooting?
I was
trying to mimic that lifestyle probably. I felt like I did have
kind of a serious approach to it, even if the results didn't show
it. I was definitely influenced by that stuff. We also had an old
1950s encyclopedia Britannica in the house filled with stock
photography to illustrate whatever entry was. But, you know, even
that stuff had this kind of, Jobie craft to it. Even if it wasn't
art there was a kind of beauty to some of these. I remember looking
up the
Sierra Nevada
and just seeing some black and
white photo of it with a red filter probably on it, so that you've
got the dark sky and just this classic Sierra image and immediately
thinking, well, this is where I have to go.
Walker Evans would have turned into kind of an artistic
style and statement, which wasn't that far from just a guy shooting
stock photography in a way. So I kind of liked that approach early
on. Just finding these things that had their kind of inherent,
quiet, coolness.
And a
lot of those shots back then versus now seemed like they were more
artistic and more crafted as opposed to looking through magazines
these days. And granted there's a lot more magazines and a lot more
images, but some of them just look like stock photography. These
days it just looks like somebody who's out there firing off
snapshots. Those shots, those shots back in those magazines were
art almost as well. A lot of it was art. It was
beautiful.
Back
then you had to know what you were doing. You, you had to learn how
to operate a film camera. You had to usually know how to work in
the dark rooms so that the learning curve was of a certain, you
know, distance and math. You couldn't really just pick up a digital
camera and futz around in Photoshop and end up with something. So
there was a kind of base-level ability to those people. Looking at
it now, anything shot on a big format camera, even if it wasn't so
great holds a bit of weight, looks a bit serious. People now it's,
just such a different playing field, there are so many photographs.
We, as a culture, as a world, the humans we've seen so many photos
were so burnt on everything, we've seen it all nonstop. And that
was a certain naivete back then. People weren't burned out on
photos. There was a lot of newness.
It
just wasn't that not everybody could do it. In the first 10 or even
20 years of my life, there were certain jobs that I got, simply
because I owned a camera. I'm not joking, you know,
“who do we know that owns
a photographic camera?”
Uh, well, this guy, Jim Harrington knows, in fact, he even knows
how to operate it. It just was true. You know, I got a lot of jobs
that way. I remember in the nineties, I would get weird jobs in
North Dakota or somewhere. And it was just because we didn't have
as many photographers. Now you could pick the tiniest village in
North Dakota and there's probably 20 guys with a website or girls,
you know, cause they're a photographer.
Tell us about your first portrait
shoot. Was that the family dog. Did you have the dog sit for a
shoot? Was it a family member?
First
portrait shoot, where I thought I was actually doing something?
Well, that shot I did of Benny Goodman, wasn't a portrait sitting.
It was him live. And my dad turned me on to Benny Goodman when I
was like, practically a seed, very young. I love that kind of
music. And at one point Dad said, “Benny Goodman is coming to town.
Do you want to go?” And I said, yes. I had that first FinTech and I
shot a couple of frames, I was very scared, walked up to the stage
in front of all these people. That felt like I was actually doing
something, trying something, and actually got something out of it,
but still portraits. I'm sure it was just one of my friends that I
grabbed where I was trying something that was a little more
considered that I'd seen and in some kind of art book or
photography magazine and just attempting it.
Was
there a first paid portrait shoot that was kind of like, Ooh, this
is important. I gotta make sure I do good.
This
is so sad that it's noteworthy and telling. But there, I don't
guess this happens anymore, but in the old days when I was young if
you were some sort of celebrity, maybe an actor or actress or
musician, and maybe you had gone a bit beyond your prime. If there
was, for instance, a new appliance store opening in some town, you
would appear at the grand opening. And sure enough, this early
friend that I'd made, an older guy and he'd lived in London, kind
of exciting person. I met in Charlotte and he had been around the
music scene of London. He was managing this tiny, mid-century kind
of mall, like a prototype of a mall. And there was an appliance
store in it. And Eileen Fulton, I don't know if anybody's going to
recognize this name, but she was a big soap opera star in the
fifties and sixties and seventies. But I think by like 1981, she
was probably a bit washed up. Still glamorous, but you know, a
little past the due date. And she came to be an appliance store
celeb. So I got paid $40 to go photograph Eileen Fulton at the
opening. Ah, humble beginnings
What inspired your quest to photograph
all the famous old climbers?
Well,
it still kind of goes back to the life magazine stuff. And later
on, I don't know if you want to call it journalism documentary,
it's a little of both. But you know, it slowly started growing out
to these more cerebral types of documentary street people.
Gary Winogrand,
Friedlaender,
even Diane Arbus,
Robert
Frank,
Cartier Bresson, you
know, I just started really getting into the whole world and the
history of this stuff. And, being very influenced by these people I
had a real hunger for the history of photography and the great
people that had done it through the decades. And I did start
shooting the music scene early on, kind of the punk rock, new wave,
et cetera, scene of Charlotte and I kind of felt like I was
documenting that.
Then
I moved out to Hollywood pretty early on and started seeking out
the current scene. But I was definitely interested in finding some
of these kinds of older obscure people, which I did throughout all
my music photography. And in fact kind of really got into that. As
years went on, really finding a lot of these kinds of roots in
America, a blues country, Jazz, R & B, whatever. Especially if some
of these people had kind of disappeared and that became a bit of my
schtick for a long time and I built up a big archive of that. And
with climbing, it was kind of the same thing. Cause I got into
climbing, and everything kind of happened around the same time. The
early mid-seventies when I started hearing about stuff and I'm into
exactly what I was into as a kid.
And
climbing. I mean, especially, in America in the seventies, the
California influence, you know, kind of driven by the Sierra, even
the, you know, just the
Chouinard
catalogs, just that
whole thing. It was like propaganda and, um, or even the, um, do
you remember the, uh, save mono Lake poster?
Yeah,
I was going to say even that the Sunset magazines and AAA, all
those things had photographs of Yosemite, Death
Valley.
All
that stuff. There was such a strong California propaganda to me, as
a guy that had his antennas up, certainly for the climbing. But
yeah, Sunset magazine, the beauty of that stuff. And even like I
said, that encyclopedia Britannica just seeing the Sierra Nevada. I
mean, you know, just the trees, the way the whole place looked like
a Japanese Zen Garden, it all made sense to me. And I particularly
got super into the history of it and reading about it. And so,
around the mid-nineties, I decided, well I knew that
Glen Dawson
and
Jules Eichorn were
still alive. And they were about the oldest people I could imagine,
anyone else older would have died already. So I just thought, well,
I'm going to go find these guys and photograph them and meet them
and that's that, right?
And
so I did, I ended up, this is in the pretty early days of the
internet. I don't even know, this was before Google. I don't know
what I would have even searched on back then, but I actually
somehow found Doug Robinson's phone number. I mean, this is like a primal search.
I have no idea, but suddenly it came up on the screen, Doug
Robinson, here's his phone number. I thought, really this easy huh?
And I just immediately called him. I'm just going to completely,
this is probably not the way you're supposed to use the internet,
but I'm calling this guy. And so he picked up, we talked for like
two hours and just kind of really hit it off. And I told him, I
said, you know, I think I'm going to come out.
So he
thought that was very cool. And then somehow that turned into him
and I climbing together and photographing him, Cause I love Doug's
writing, I was deeply impressionable and fell under the gaze of
Doug's. It was just part of the whole stew that I was digging, you
know? And so I went out there and I got Glen Dawson down in
Pasadena and then I drove up to Owens Valley and met Doug and we
had this amazing two weeks together. We did a first ascent
in
the Palisades. We went
all over the place, went to the needles, a really incredible trip
all the way along. And then after that went up to the Bay area and
shot Jules. And so, boom, I had these three guys and, it felt kinda
cool and it's like maybe I should continue and get these Sierra
Nevada guys. This will be a cool little project. So I did, whenever
I got the money, you know, this was just a personal project and I
was living in Nashville at the time. So I had to keep paying for
plane tickets, just all that. That was always a thing. But I slowly
got
Royal Robbins and
Chouinard
and got more of these people. And
so I thought, maybe there's a little Sierra Nevada series. Maybe
it's, I don't know, Outside magazine did a spread, but then at some
point, it just kinda grew. I got
Bradford Washburn on
the East coast, which suddenly it wasn't a Sierra project anymore.
Okay. It's an American project, but then a couple of years, three
years later or more, I ended up getting
Ricardo Cassin and
Italy and suddenly it was international and nobody gave a damn
about this thing. Really. It was just, people thought I was crazy.
It was climbers like some really smart, interesting climbers
thought, well, why are you doing this? Like you're shooting like
young, hot climbers. It's like, really don't fucking get this at
all. I just, it's so obvious to me. I wouldn't want to be shooting
young, hot climbers. Like these are legends man. And they're
sitting around in their living room. Some of them just waiting for
someone to come visit. It was like a dream job and nobody
recognized it.
That's awesome. It's amazing. You went all over the
world doing it and for a personal project! That has gotta be some
expense involved in that, but you got some great portraits. I love
it. And I love some of the stories you were telling when you were
here in Bishop about how you got some of those guys, I forget who
it was, you were photographing at his kitchen table. And that story
was just, that had to be a great experience. I mean,
unbelievable.
It
was crazy. I started getting very bold in my penniless travels,
putting myself way out there without a way home with my camera and
my bindle. And it was, I mean, I've always traveled, you know,
since I could, since I was young, but it was definitely an
experiment of just how far out on the edge you can go with an idea
and no money.
How about the inspiration for each
individual? Did you have a person that you just wanted to, get on
the list or you wanted to meet him? Did you have a recipe or an
idea of the shot before?
You
know, again, the early recipe was the Sierra Nevada. The fact that
I got Bradford Washburn who was amazing and also his photography
was amazing. I just thought, how can I turn that down? That kind of
made me turn it into, okay, it's an American thing. I didn't really
want to be this big about it, but it's getting big. It also, while
it made it more difficult, it also made it easier without the
restriction of just the Sierra Nevada. Now, if there's these other
people that it's going to make it bigger and messier, suddenly I
know I can get this guy and this guy. It's a mixture of guys that I
knew and respected. I did have to start thinking about well, I
don't want to get too many from one area. You know, this thing's
becoming global, then I want to diffuse it out a bit. Sometimes it
was all about the person. Sometimes it was wanting to represent an
area or scene, obviously the Alps or the Calanques, you know,
outside of Marseille. There became these sort of little mini
reasons. Obviously I wanted to get some Sherpas, there were all
these many reasons. Some people died that were really heartbreaking
that I couldn't get, and got so close to that was a super big
bummer, but I had to philosophize that and how to keep myself sane.
And ultimately I had, and I liked the reasoning that I used, which
is this book is a representation of an era. It was never intended
to be a who's who complete encyclopedia. That would have been too
big anyway. It would have been a really unwieldy book. It would
have been just too much so, and that's true. And also it saved me
from going insane for the people that I did miss. So I do feel
confident that I represented the era very well, which is the 1920s
to 1970s.
I
think if you'd had just tried to get everybody, then all of a
sudden it becomes too much like an encyclopedia or library book or
something, and it loses the emotion. I think that you've captured
the emotion of the era as well as the stories. It's
great.
And
the book is a good size. It's not too big. There are 60 climbers,
60 portraits. I think that's just about right. Any more than that
and they sort of lose importance. It may make you skip a couple of
pages and keep looking.
What were the years photographing the
musicians like that had to be pretty wild too, cause those were
some wild years.
Well,
that was fun. I mean, I'm still doing it. I never really quit, but
you know, it's a different playing field now. Well, certainly with
COVID, but who knows what's going to happen. I’m a huge music fan
and grew up loving, I was kind of a product, I guess, of the punk
rock years. But I was a big, again, I love big band, Benny Goodman,
the stuff my mom and dad turned me on to early rock and roll and
jazz. So just everything good. I was into, good as subjective, and
I just wanted to document it and I did kind of force that one
along. It was great, you know, it was, it was fun to start getting
published and getting my name on album covers and magazines and
getting paid.
But
it really was, these were my people. I was an only child in a small
town in North Carolina and I didn't feel like, it felt like I had
to go out in the world to find this world that I related to. I felt
like this was where I should be. And I just had to go find these
people. These were friends I hadn't made yet is the way I felt
about it. And it turned out to be true. And I think it's the same
for those people too. Everybody wants to find their people. I got
to be friends with a lot of them, many of them. I mean, And the
same with climbing you know, Doug Robinson's one of my best
friends. I mean, it's weird cause he was this legend in my eyes. I
have to call him today, check up on his new hip. So yeah, I always
just felt it was, you create the world you want to be in and that's
the world I wanted to be in and it was comfortable and I understood
it. And I felt, I kind of felt like I was doing a public service
documenting these people. Like maybe you don't realize it now, but
one day you'll look at these pictures after this was all
gone.
And it was pretty adventurous of you to
go travel around the world. And even as a youngster doing this
stuff, are there adventurers in your family or where did that
adventure bug come from?
Well,
this is something I think about a lot. I had to learn how to do
that. I mean you know, my dad turned me on to it. I remember I
sorta had the blueprints in our humble little living room. We had a
globe, you know, an old fashioned globe. We had an Atlas, we had
these life magazines and we had an encyclopedia. And that was like
the only four things I remember. It was some kind of visual
stimulus, but it was everything. If something came on the news on
TV, you know, dad would always show it. We'd look on the map. It's
like, Holy shit, what's that? The middle East? What are those
people, I want to go. So I had are very early on, but the thing is
the Herrington's, um, where a burgeoning grocery empire in the tiny
town of Salsbury, North Carolina, My dad's dad who kind of
inherited the three very happening stores and a fish market, that
my dad's dad's dad's dad had started. But then my grandfather, my
dad's dad, he seemed to be some kind of traveling Playboy. As I
heard it told he would only come home long enough to get my
grandmother pregnant, then take off again. But we have a passport
stamped with Tokyo during world war two. And I can't figure out why
in the hell . . . we also have papers that he was on the Graf
Zeppelin from Rio to Europe. And they used to say, well, you know
with the grocery store you would have to travel. You would have to
go to Cuba to buy bananas and coffee. And I believed that for a few
years. But then I got just slightly older and it's like, no he's
not! I mean, at best he would go to Miami, but there are
distribution points. He's not going to Cuba to pick out bananas.
Cuba to talk to Castro, maybe. So, I don't know. But, um, I guess
it's a Herrington thing. My dad was a traveler. There's definitely
some restless stuff in the DNA.
What about favorite people, who was the
most fun to photograph?
Oh,
there's a bunch, there's so many, you know, Dolly
Parton, I always
mention her because I think everybody kind of loves Dolly Parton.
You know she plays the dumb blonde act. I think most people, you
know, that it's actually an act. She's not really acting. She's
just kind of effortlessly amazing. I mean, she's truly got an aura
around her of super cool, super funny, razor, sharp, smart
business. She writes all her songs. She's just like a fully formed,
complete human being. I really loved her. Keith Richards, he's a good guy. There's a lot of them.
Morgan Freeman was
great.
Was
anybody specifically challenging in a unique way? Couldn't get them
to engage?
Yeah.
I don't like to give them much press, but I've definitely had some
dark moments with some people that are definitely good bar stories.
I'll tell ya.
We'll save that for when you come to
Bishop, we'll have a beer somewhere.
I
sort of, I talk about
Warren Harding
in my slideshow. That's a long
soliloquy, he was . . . we'll call that challenging. Our friendship
was over the phone strictly, and things fell apart before we
actually met. But, but it did make up a good long story for the
slide show, which is kind of dark and funny.
I was talking to Greg Thomsen as I was
preparing for this interview. And he was saying, he thinks of you
as the Anthony Bordain of photography and climbing history, but way
more alive. What do you say to that?
Well,
I'm a fan of Bordain. I will accept the compliment and I met
Bordain actually. I was doing a job shooting, Kris Kristofferson,
and basically just around him for the day in New York City. And he
had to go to the David Letterman show for a couple of hours to do a
little thing. So we went to the Letterman show together and, you
know, you just hang around backstage for a couple of hours before
you do your bits. So I was there, Joan Baez was in a room. It's
very low key and quiet back there. Steve Martin stopped by for a
bit, but basically it was just kind of boring. And then I passed
this one dressing room on the far end and poked my head in and I
was like, wonder who's in there. And it was Bordain. Just sitting
by himself, watching TV up on the wall, near the ceiling. He kind
of looked over and nodded. So I went in and we ended up talking for
an hour, he was that guy. I like him, very sad to hear him
gone.
Have you photographed the Thomsen
brothers yet?
You
know, I should do the kind of a formal thing with them because,
they're the other guys that I had heard about early on out of
California, these guys doing stuff. And in fact, on a photoshoot, I
ended up becoming the defacto model for some Wilderness Experience
stuff that was shot. I actually got a free Wilderness Experience pack in the early eighties. But yeah, I knew of those
guys and, you know, they did such great work. It's been cool to get
to be friends with them. And Greg has done some wonderful things
for me, for the book, like really super great stuff. So I'm in
debt. I'm glad I've gotten to be really friendly with them over the
last couple of years. Hi boys.
Do you have any suggestions or advice
for someone wanting to get into photography these days?
Well,
that's a tough one because I guess I would need to know what their
reasons were. Why would you want to do this? It’s so challenging,
it always was. I mean it always was a hard thing to get into and no
doubt, but God, there's just oceans of photographers. Now everybody
has a nice DSLR and the learning curve, the progress is so fast
because they can get good results and Photoshop. So that just makes
the playing field thick. But also it's, the magazines haven't
raised their rates in a long time. It's really, you know, digital
has hurt everything from the record industry to publishing. So
those people, a lot of them are just disappearing or they don't
have the budgets they used to have.
So
it's a, just a battlefield everywhere, but it's also invented a lot
of new opportunities, which I'm still sorting out myself. Like
what, what are they. I guess my thing, and it's only my opinion,
but I would definitely go kind of crazy deep into the history of
photography. I do meet a lot of kids, young people who asked me
this and I discover that they're not really learning about any of
the past great people. I guess that's fine. Is that fuddy-duddy? I
don't know when I was a kid I was obsessed with the history of it
and these great people, and I think you can learn so much. I just
think it's important to know the arc of it all. Then that will
inform your craft and style so much. And I think just having a
point of view is also the hard thing. When I see younger people
there, sometimes they're kind of lucking by luck, falling into some
good stuff, but, just developing a style and a point of view that
is kind of replicable, or not copying, but have a unique way,
develop yourself as an artist and have a reason for doing things
this way. And don't be haphazard, really be serious about
it
Everything takes a certain amount of pain, you know? I
sound like an old Catholic nun or something, but, like practicing
guitar, practicing piano, or just being a painter, if you really
want to rise above, there's going to be late nights, you're going
to avoid your friends. There's going to be a certain amount of pain
and hard work to kind of rise above. And I don't think that ever
goes away. In any craft, sport, art, all of it. If it's too easy,
you're not doing something right.
Do you photograph every
day?
Oh,
no, absolutely not. I'm thinking about it every day. I mean, even
if it's in my mind, I'm working on it. Why am I doing it? What does
it mean? What is the new stuff I have? My archives are so huge. It
was really depressing the other day, I was looking for something
and it just dawned on me. If I don't take another photo, the rest
of my life starting now I have enough to keep me busy. That just
put me in a funk for the rest of the day. Because if I choose to
not do that, Oh, screw that I'm going to keep producing new work.
Well, that means I'll never get to the old stuff. Or if I choose to
just not do new stuff and only focus on the old stuff, then it's
just that, I'm just catching up. Either outcome is kind of like,
wow.
Yeah,
don't stay on that too long, go out and go and create. You've got
to create, I find the creativity part of it is a huge part of
it.
I
agree. But you know the whole thing that I do is kind of like this.
I mean, the climber book was in a way going through the archives.
Cause I did a lot of the photography, it was going back and putting
this stuff together. Which I sort of feel like is a part of my
archives is well I gotta get it while the getting's hot. You know,
I take the pictures. I experience these stories, put these things
together, but I can't do anything with them right now. So I'll keep
accumulating. And then the other half of the equation is putting it
together later.
Does the inspiration for the project
though sometimes comes later, I guess. And then once you're in the
project, like the book, once you've got that started and you
realize you want to get some other climbers, but sometimes you've
got all this archive of work and the project doesn't come to you
until you take this one photo and then realize, Oh, wait a minute,
I've got all this, that, and the other, this could be a good book
or presentation or whatever it might be does that
happen?
It's
weird. I'm now officially an author. Who's done a book. But before
that happened, which was only in 2017, I never had a book and to
me, books were the, be all end all, I just really fetishize books,
especially art photography, well-designed beautiful books. And I
considered them better than a museum show. Like a really good book,
is it? But you know, I was probably intimidated and knew that I
wanted to do one, but could I do one, would it be good? And
finally, I was able to do one, which I'm really happy about, and it
was so much work.
Does the project derive itself from the
archive or an image?
I
guess it's kind of both. As the climbers, when it was the Sierra, I
thought, well, maybe it's just a cool little magazine spread I can
sell to somebody that's interested, look at the old Sierra
climbers.
I
guess the way I go through life is just thinking this stuff's
important. It's worth getting, I don't know what I'm going to do
with it. But as I worked on the climbers, it was becoming apparent,
okay, this could definitely be a book if I were only so lucky to
get a publisher and money and blah, blah, blah. And now it's
unbelievable that it came together. But it kind of morphs in
importance and outcome as time goes on, it's kind of like a lava
lamp in my brain of possibilities. You know, doing the stuff and
then what the outcomes could be and how possible that is. Cause, if
you're a, I don't like calling myself an artist, but I guess,
people in this kind of world, you need some word for it, a person
that does stuff like this, you're always doubting and wondering,
and until you've actually done it, it takes a lot of shapes in your
head of what it could be.
Speaking of books, do you have any
favorite books or books you give as gifts?
I'm
always terrible when people ask these questions, cause my mind goes
blank. I love the writing of SJ
Perelman. He was a
neurotic Jew that really influenced Woody Allen. Actually I think
Woody Allen's neurotic Jewish stick came very much from S J
Perelman who was older and before him. He wrote for the New Yorker
and things like that. But just these short, very funny, I think,
stories that had an incredible vocabulary and he didn't become as
big as Robert
Benchley and some of
those humorous of the same era. I actually thought he was better.
Actually think I learned a lot from Perelman. I somehow found him
when I was in high school. Jim Thompson, the pulped novel
writer, Daniel,
Farson Never a Normal
Man, his tales of the
postwar London art scene. Then there's a book that I recommend if I
ever have a photography course with students, I think my textbook
might be Photography Until Now by John Sarcowski, who was the great curator of photography at the
museum of modern art.
Do you have a favorite piece of outdoor
gear you always take with you under a hundred dollars?
Gadgets? Well, I go through periods of a favorite knife
and especially since I've been finding these knives that I get in
Spain, for some reason I keep coming back from Spain, Northern
Spain, from the Pyrenees over to Bilbao. I just come back with
knives. I'm not even one of those knife guys. They land in my
possession somehow. I can be such a weirdo romantic. And I think of
like some kind of old pictures, I saw people in the mountains high
in the Swiss Alps, breaking for cheese and salami in the sunshine.
And I think of the knife itself, as it cuts through it, just kind
of a beautiful, simple knife, cutting out little chunks to put on a
piece of Cracker or bread. So think of having a nice knife in the
top of my pack. So when it's lunch break, slicing through a hard
cheese cause there's nothing as good as that.
If people want to follow up, how can they reach out to you?
I'll link to your website, Jim herrington.com. Is that the best
place?
That's H-E-R-R, not the other spelling.
Jim Herrington.com. And
then Instagram is the same at Jim Herrington.
Perfect. We'll put, we'll put links to
those in the show notes.
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